


Be Sure to Tip Your Waiter (For He's On His Last Dime)

by inkncoffee



Series: Three and a Half Stars [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: But a Terrible Waiter, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Percy's a Good Guy, Sexist Language, gods being gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkncoffee/pseuds/inkncoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a demigod doesn't pay too well (or, you know, at all) so Percy gets a job at a local restaurant. When girls ask him to switch tables with them to escape getting hit on by creepy guys, he always agrees. He's in for a bit of a surprise one night when he recognizes one of the creepy guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Sure to Tip Your Waiter (For He's On His Last Dime)

Montauk was quiet, the waves gently lapped against the dark sand as a lone figure walked across the shore. Winter was rapidly approaching, Persephone already having returned to her husband below, taking the warmth with her. The ocean rolled soothingly in the early darkness, lovingly swelling up across the sand to whirl around the ankles of the lone beachgoer. It was a man in the prime of life, well built with dark black hair that tousled in the chilly breeze. He wore only sandals, but the frigid water didn't seem to bother him. He was dressed simply, like a fisherman on leave from the sea. A fishing hat sat atop his head and a pair of striking green eyes gazed out of his tan face.

Poseidon, lord of the sea, was feeling oddly sanguine tonight. Another war had come and gone, mortals and immortals alike were finally settling back down into their lives after the turmoil of the last few years. Irrelevant, really, Poseidon had lived through countless wars and would weather many more to come. But, in this moment, the peace was relevant: Percy Jackson was safe.

Poseidon could feel his beloved mortal son, a constant pressure in the back of his mind. Percy was safe, although if he concentrated hard enough on that bright spot at the edge of his consciousness he could feel Percy's irritation at whatever plagued him tonight. Not life-threatening. Not even mythical in nature. An irritation at a very simple, normal mortal problem and underlying that irritation Poseidon could feel his son's relief at the return of such normalcy. Poseidon couldn't begrudge him for that. After all he had been through, Percy deserved a break from his father's world. All Poseidon wanted to do was visit his child, but he dared not. Not tonight. Zeus still kept a sharp eye on the other gods, paranoid and distrustful enough to ruin everybody's chance at reconciliation with their children. Some things never changed.

"Uncle P!"

Poseidon's eyes snapped open, his trident materializing in his hand in an instant and its deadly three-pronged tip coming to rest at the base of the throat that called out to him. Apollo grinned at the other end of his trident, teeth gleaming even in the darkness.

"Apollo," he greeted stiffly, withdrawing his weapon but keeping his tight grip on it as he eyed his exuberant nephew warily.

Change occurred very rapidly in this new age; humans made leaps and bounds in the way of technology, medicine, and even social change in a very short time. The gods changed with the times, but they all struggled to cope with the overwhelming fluctuations that occurred over the last few centuries. Apollo was the best at adapting. Thus the casual "Uncle P" seemed to be a permanent fixture in his vocabulary. Poseidon still wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. Apollo stared out at the ocean, as if appreciating its beauty but Poseidon was not fooled; the ocean was an indicator of his mood and his nephew was simply judging how irritated the sea god was with his presence. The water was still relatively calm. Apollo turned to him with a thousand watt grin.

"So, I was thinking – "

"This can't be good," Poseidon sighed.

Apollo pouted, as if he were an insolent child and not an all-powerful and immortal god. Some things truly never did change. But Poseidon was curious and he waved the sun god on with a tip of his trident.

"I was thinking," Apollo eagerly rejoined, falling into step next to Poseidon as they strode along the beach. "There's this little restaurant just down the road here. You can still hear the ocean, it's so close. Whaddya say?"

"What are you up to?" Poseidon asked, but his mood was too fair for him to be anything more than amused. Apollo wanted something from him, that much he was certain. If he thought some well themed mortal restaurant would sway the Stormbringer in his favor, he was sorely mistaken…but Poseidon would let him believe otherwise. It was more entertaining that way.

"Lead the way," he decreed with a wave of his trident.

"Perfect," Apollo grinned.

A moment later they were outside a small but busy restaurant. Poseidon raised an eyebrow at the gaudy décor, the atmosphere a strange mixture of Hollywood and oceanic paraphernalia. Before them hung a picture of some mortal actor, the frame of his poorly lit picture composed entirely of seashells. Poseidon raised an eyebrow at his nephew, who simply grinned back.

"It's one of my favorite places, although I haven't been here in a while. The ah," Apollo trailed off, his eyes fixed on the swaying backside of a waitress.

"The food is to your liking?" Poseidon asked, chuckling as Apollo snapped his completely unrepentant gaze back to him.

"Something like that," Apollo winked. A pretty, dark haired waitress, much too young for Poseidon's taste but Apollo's eyes lit up, seated them.

"What can I get you guys to start with?" The waitress asked, her smile half-hearted and forced.

"How about a name sweetheart?" Apollo asked flashing the girl a near blinding smile.

Poseidon saw the girl stiffen as he flicked through the stained menu before him. Well, this should be entertaining at least.

"Natasha," the girl replied coolly, tapping a finger against her nametag. "Now, what can I get you to _drink?"_

"Is there anything as sweet as you?" Apollo flirting, leaning forward.

"Just a water," Poseidon said, taking pity on the poor girl. She stood stiffly, eyeing Apollo distastefully.

"Your best wine then," Apollo said, undaunted as he peered up at the girl from behind his thick eyelashes. His face grew younger, a roundness settling across his cheeks until he appeared around the age of their young waitress. His transformation went unnoticed, safely protected by the Mist, as Poseidon sighed.

"Perhaps you could bring back two glasses and you could take a break with – "

"Wine, got it," Natasha cut him off, pen held tightly between her fingers and tapping angrily against her chest.

The motion drew Apollo's gaze and he unabashedly watched, leaning forward as his eyes lingered on the top two unclipped buttons of the girl's uniform before drifting lower. Poseidon half expected – and half hoped – the girl was going to rake her perfectly manicured red nails across Apollo's face. She did not, much to his disappointment. Her face flushed dark with anger and her jaw twitched.

"Coming right up," she twisted around and stormed away from the table before Apollo could say anything else.

"Subtle," Poseidon said, "I can see why your lovers view you so amiably."

"The smile normally works," Apollo pouted. He started to continue, probably to prattle on about his romantic prowess, so Poseidon neatly cut him off.

"Apollo, why are we at a moral restaurant?" He asked with a falsely pleasant tone. A fleeting look of panic crossed Apollo's face but Poseidon cheerfully continued, "The oceanic atmosphere clearly is meant to appeal to me. But it's the mortals that interest me. Did you bring me here as insurance in case I lost my temper?"

Apollo licked his lips but grinned, a shrewd and calculated thing. "Zeus will go ballistic if you cause an earthquake in Manhattan."

"Indeed," Poseidon agreed amiably. "But of course, with three-fourths of the world at my fingertips I don't see why one little island should be of such importance to me." Then, casually, turning the page in his menu, he asked, "Tell me, nephew, how well does your oracle swim?"

The mirth vanished from Apollo's face and a cold mask took its place. "You wouldn't dare." Apollos's eyes flashed as he snarled, "she is the oracle and Percy's friend."

"Wouldn't I?" Poseidon smiled baselessly.

Of course, Poseidon would never hurt the Dare girl. As the oracle, she enjoyed certain protection and even Zeus would protest harm against her. But, more importantly, Apollo was right: she was Percy's friend. Her place in his son's heart cemented her safety from Poseidon's ire.

Poseidon watched, not even bothering to conceal his amusement as rage boiled in Apollo's eyes. The sun god took several measured breaths. It was obvious to the sea god that his nephew needed something from him – a favor given his wariness of Poseidon's temper. He clearly had waited for Poseidon to be in a good mood before pouncing on him. Despite his misgiving, however, Poseidon's curiosity was peaked; but favors were not to be taken lightly especially when they came from one of the Big Three. Apollo would have to work for Poseidon's cooperation. This realization seemed to dawn on Apollo was well. His fingers twitched and he leaned forward, visibly trying to control himself. His carefully constructed, carefree mask slipped and Poseidon idly watched as he tried to fix it.

"Uncle P – " he started again in an attempt to return to his carefree attitude.

Before he could finish, two glasses of water were slammed down before them with such force that the crystal liquid inside slouched over the precariously filled tops and spilled onto their table. The waiter – for it was a waiter and not the pretty little waitress Apollo flirted with earlier – didn't even bother to clean it up. He turned to face the pair, having previously been conversing with someone over his shoulder as he slammed the glasses down.

Poseidon's surprise was too great for him to do more than blink at the all too familiar face before him. In fact, only one thought permeated his surprise: the waiter's smile was almost frightening, if it could even be called a smile. Both sides of his lips were pulled up, showing every single one of his teeth, barred in an almost predatory fashion: a shark's smile. Apollo's eyes flashed at the waiter's impertinence, his face twisting and ready to unleash his unbridled fury upon the boy.

Poseidon could pinpoint the exact second Apollo realized who their waiter was – his eyes widened and mouth fell open in an almost comical display. Which, honestly, wasn't far from their waiter's response when _he_ realized who sat before him.

Percy Jackson, twice savior of Olympus and demigod son of Poseidon, blinked at Apollo and Apollo blinked back at him. Percy's wide eyes panned out slowly, cautiously, until they met their mirror image in his father's face. The three stared at each other, each very much caught off guard. Poseidon recovered enough to berate himself – he was so caught up in Apollo's nonsense that he missed the presence of _his own son._

"Percy."

"Dad."

That single word spoke volumes; incredulity, disbelief, awe, and surprise all colored his son's tone as his face contorted to reflect each emotion. His eyes only briefly flickered over to Apollo, who gaped at Percy in something akin to horror, before returning to his father. He held a pen loosely in one hand and a pad of paper flopped in the other. He twirled the pen, his fingers worrying on the cap in a motion that Poseidon hazarded was an unconscious response to stressful situations.

"What - ?"

The sheer confusion on Percy's face might have been amusing at any other time. But now, Poseidon simply relished his son's presence.

"Apollo's trying to weasel some sort of favor out of me," he pleasantly told his son.

"You would work at the one restaurant I chose," Apollo bemoaned, tugging on his hair in agitation. "And where is our waitress? None of this would've happened if she just kept our table."

Poseidon thought this was a rather ridiculous statement. He may have been distracted by Apollo's nonsense, but there was no way he would have gone the entire night without noticing Percy. Nor undoubtedly, the demigod them. The statement seemed to startle Percy out of his dazed state, however.

He glared at Apollo, his lips pressed tight and face darkening, "She asked me to take it because some creep was making her feel uncomfortable."

Apollo sputtered as Poseidon chuckled. "Some creep? Hey now – how do you know it wasn't your dad?"

Poseidon sent Apollo a withering look to which the sun god sputtered back, "Don't give me that look! Like it's out of the realm of possibility; what about Medusa? Or Caeneus, or – "

"You look well son," Poseidon said, sharply cutting Apollo off as Percy's brow furrowed. He didn't want Percy to dwell on the sun god's words.

His words were not untrue however (Poseidon's, not Apollo's… although the latter's weren't untrue either); Percy _did_ look better. He was still too thin; his cheeks hollow but no longer gaunt. His eyes didn't shine as brightly as they had before Tartarus and dark circles still surrounded them. But, when he first arrived at their table, outraged on the behalf of his friend, fire burned fiercely in them. Even now they held some of that flame. Poseidon only hoped time would restore his precious child to his previous health and spirit; a hope spurned on by Percy's appearance today.

He didn't look well, not by a long shot, but he looked better.

A ghost of a smile tilted on Percy's lips, "Thanks, Dad."

"I ordered wine," Apollo complained, ruining the moment as he reached out to shake the glass of water Percy forcibly slammed down earlier. Poseidon glowered over at him, but the sun god was too busy pouting to notice.

"Yeah, but you were being a jerk to Nat so I was going to make you ask again," Percy said with a shrug of his shoulders. Poseidon chuckled at his honesty as Apollo drew himself up, offended.

"Jackson! Quit gossiping and get back to work, you have other tables."

Percy waved his notepad over his shoulder, not even turning around to address the angry, stout man that reprimanded him from across the room. The man bristled, pulling himself up to his rather unimpressive height, and started to storm over to their table but was intercepted by a waitress who stole his attention.

"Well, we don't want to get you fired," Apollo said, looking delighted at the interruption.

"I get fired at least once a week," Percy was unconcerned. "They always rehire me. Not that I'm not glad to see you, but ah, are you even allowed to be here?"

"We didn't know you were here," Poseidon said, delighted. "It was a happy accident."

"Zeus will flip if he finds out," Apollo hedged, desperately trying to reclaim Poseidon's attention. "We should probably leave."

"I haven't ordered yet," Poseidon objected mildly.

The surrealism of the situation was not lost on him. Nor Percy, if the way he was fighting back a grin was any indicator. Gods didn't exactly go out to eat or spend much time in the mortals' domain; Apollo's little adventures and flirtatious escapades being the special cases. Zeus undoubtedly would throw a tantrum if he found out, but the grin that finally found its way onto Percy's face was worth it.

Besides, Poseidon could always blame it on Apollo.

"Alright," Apollo groaned. Slumping low in his seat he darkly asked, "So, what do you recommend then Percy?"

Percy blinked. "The water's probably safe."

"For _food_ Perseus," Apollo growled but the malice in his voice evaporated as Poseidon's hard gaze fell upon him; _upset my child and not only will your favor not be granted but you shall suffer my unencumbered wrath._ Apollo cleared his throat awkwardly before giving Percy a pleasant, and slightly nervous, smile.

"Nothing, it all sucks." Percy grinned somewhat apologetically at his father, "you really picked an awful place."

"Hey Perce," a girl slid behind Percy, eyeing Apollo distrustfully as she said, "Desiree wants to know if you'll switch tables with her. Says the guy keeps trying to look down her shirt."

"Of course, what table?" Percy asked, glancing at the girl as his smile slipped away and was replaced with a frown.

"Yellow shirt with the Yankee hat," the girl jerked her head towards the table and Percy nodded as he found them.

"Got it, tell her to take table twenty for me then? Diet coke and a lemonade."

"Got it, thanks love," the girl pressed a kiss to Percy's cheek and disappeared.

"Oh, so _that's_ why you do it," Apollo realized, watching the girl's backside as she slipped away.

"Leave her alone," Percy snapped, irritated. "And what are you talking about?"

" _Jackson!"_

The stout man was back, having freed himself from the waitress and stalking towards their table.

Percy pressed his lips together and eyed his boss warily.

"Go ahead," Poseidon gently told him. "I shall still be here when you return. Tend to your duties and I shall await your return."

Percy smiled, his shoulders falling as he visibly relaxed. Poseidon was deeply pleased with his hesitance to leave and his obvious desire to remain in his father's presence.

"I'll be back," he promised.

"I shall wait." Poseidon assured him once more.

He watched as Percy left, turning to attend to the table with the man in the yellow shirt and Yankee hat, giving his boss a wide not-so-innocent smile as he brushed passed the man.

"No seriously Poseidon, Zeus will not like this," Apollo leaned forward to gravely meet his uncle's eyes as soon as Percy was out of earshot.

"Such a shame you brought me here isn't it?" Poseidon asked mildly.

Apollo's face paled and his fingers trembled with rage.

"Relax," Poseidon instructed. "Zeus need not know. Here, how about this: if you allow me this short, precious time with my son then I will grant your favor."

Apollo's eyebrows skyrocketed. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You don't even want to know what it is?"

"I am only mildly concerned. You don't often come to me and it is sure to anger Zeus, so yes."

Apollo leaned against his chair, relief spreading over his face. "Bless that boy I love him, I take back the bodily harm I wished upon him."

"What."

Outside the window beside them, the ocean crashed violently against the shore.

"Not like _grievous_ bodily harm! Just like, a sprained ankle or – or a minor concussion. Just enough so I could finish our conversation! I would never want to hurt your boy – I love that kid, I would let him take my sun chariot for a joyride! I would – I'm going to shut up now."

"That would be wise," Poseidon agreed, watching his nephew through narrowed eyes. "If anything befalls my son Apollo – "

"I would _never_ – "

"Rest assured, I'll make Zeus' wrath look like Elysium."

Apollo leaned back in his chair, sulking. Poseidon flicked through his menu, satisfied. He listened carefully for the sound of Percy's voice, catching the low tenor of his son from across the room and contented himself listening to his steady hum;

"Hey, I ordered a beer what's this shit?"

"Did you? My bad," Percy's unconcerned voice brought a smile to his father's face. "Can I see some ID?"

"ID?!"

"Identification. Should be a little plastic card with a little grainy picture of your face on it. Usually kept in a wallet or purse or whatever. I don't judge."

"You know what kid I've had enough of – "

"No beer then, got it. Can I take your order or are you still looking?"

" _Now wait just a minute you little –_ "

"You need another minute, got it. I'll be back later."

Poseidon chuckled and across from him, he could see Apollo fighting a smile as well.

"He's such a little shit," Apollo said, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "It's a comfort to know the mortals can't handle him either."

"The sea cannot be contained," Poseidon proudly declared as Percy slipped through the restaurant, navigating the plane of chairs and people like a stream unerringly trickling through a dense forest, untamable, uninhibited.

He paused at the entrance to the kitchen when a girl waved him over, leaning over so his ear was level with the pretty waitress' mouth. The girl smiled, her hand resting on his hip in a display of affection that, even to the gods' eyes, was oddly platonic and friendly in nature. Percy nodded and this girl too pressed a kiss to his son's cheek before he vanished into the kitchen.

"I don't understand," Apollo said, his brow furrowed as he took a sip of his water.

He made a face, as if he forgot Percy gave them water instead of wine. "The girls love him. He could safely mess around and flirt with any of them and they would gladly let him. That daughter of Athena wouldn't even know. Yet he doesn't. I mean, what's he get out of it? He sure isn't getting any tips."

Poseidon watched waiters and waitresses bustled in and out of the kitchen, catching sight of their first waitress who looked all too happy to wait on a group of women giggling in the corner. He took a sip of water, contemplating.

"It is not in his nature," Poseidon finally rumbled. "He is not like us. He is better. He loves and cares deeply, with the simplicity of a child, yet the fierceness and heart of a true hero."

Poseidon took another sip of water. "Besides, he wouldn't notice if any of them flirted with him anyway."

Apollo gave a snort at that, grinning into his water. Poseidon felt Percy emerge from the kitchen and raised his eyes to meet his as Percy placed a wine glass before Apollo.

"Thank Dionysus." Apollo's eyes lit up as he reached for the glass.

"I mean, don't go thanking anybody yet. It's basically red water."

Apollo made a face as he took a sip. Percy gave an apologetic shrug. A shout drew his attention and his eyes flickered over to the corner where the guy in the yellow shirt and Yankee's hat was angrily complaining to the pained looking manager. The manager glared at Percy who promptly turned his attention unrepentantly back to his father.

"I hate to break it to you kid, but I don't think you'll be getting a tip from him," Apollo clicked his tongue as he took another sip of his not-wine.

Percy shrugged, looking resigned, "I never do."

He glanced at the menu before his father curiously, "Do you guys actually eat mortal food?"

"Not if we can help it," Apollo admitted. "But sometimes it's unavoidable, like when I was wooing this girl once. She was really into – "

"We prefer not to. It just doesn't taste as good," Poseidon said, raising his voice ever so slightly to be heard over the sun god, handing his menu to Percy. "Except for the work of a few exemplary mortal chefs. Just bring out whatever you think best – it's for appearances more than anything."

"Because apparently we're staying," Apollo muttered as he handed Percy his menu, looking resigned. "Just choose something with an inoffensive smell please, I don't know why you mortals must create such pungent smelling dishes – "

Percy let Apollo ramble, smiling faintly as he took the menus.

" – and for Dionysus' sake bring me something else," Apollo pushed his wine glass forward. "Preferably with real alcohol."

"I'll try," Percy said indulgently.

"Percy," Poseidon started, commanding his son's complete attention. Percy paused, his head tilted curiously.

Percy was paler than Poseidon would have liked and he had to clench his hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and lay a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I would ask you join us," he told Percy, steadily holding the demigod's gaze. "I would, gladly. But it would not be wise."

He could go into the reasons why it wouldn't be wise; that Zeus would be furious enough to learn that Poseidon and Percy were in the same space as each other, that he did not leave when he first noticed his son's presence, that he lingered and engaged… The words wouldn't come, however, but instead left him staring regretfully at his child, who had sacrificed so much, who deserved so much more than he received.

Percy nodded, that faint smile still in place on his face. He didn't look upset. "I know," he said simply. Then, nonsensically, "Thank you."

"Excuse us, sirs," the stout manager interrupted, taking Percy by the arm. "I need to borrow him for a moment, your food should be out shortly."

"They want something inoffensive, do we even have a dish like that?" Percy asked loudly as the manager ushered him away.

"The water probably," a passing waitress smirked and the two of them shared a laugh as the manager bristled, grumbling as he pulled Percy inside the kitchen.

"You realize you're just getting us into deeper trouble," Apollo pointed out.

"Only if Zeus notices," Poseidon calmly replied. "Now, tell me about this favor I owe."

Percy brought their food shortly thereafter, shrugging when they asked what his manager wanted.

"Threatened to fire me again," Percy said, unconcerned.

The food was offensive, but it wasn't like they were actually eating it. It steadily disappeared throughout the night – Percy didn't ask and they didn't explain – as he kept checking in on their table. It wasn't much in the term of quality time, Poseidon only stole a couple minutes of his son's time here and there, but it was more than he ever had before. He would take it.

"Poseidon," Apollo warned as the night grew deeper and the restaurant quieter. "We should leave."

"Probably," Poseidon agreed, watching his son clear off a table, almost dropping a plate and crouching low to catch it.

"You managed to steal several hours," Apollo said, his voice as low as the dim lights that swung above their heads. "It is more than most of us get."

"I know."

"Saying goodbye will only make it harder to leave," Apollo warned, standing up. The youth faded from his vintage as he stood, his features sharpening until he appeared the same as when he walked up to Poseidon on the beach.

"It always does," Poseidon agreed softly. Across the room, Percy's head turned, as if catching his father's words.

When Percy returned the table a few minutes later, it was empty. He squashed the part of him that was disappointed, knowing that it wasn't fair to be angry or upset as he sighed and collected the empty dishes. As he picked up the last plate, he gaped at the table in surprise. Laying neatly under his father's plate, three crisp bills waited, the number along their green edges in the triple digits, Benjamin Franklin winking up at him. Next to the mortal money, three gleaming drachmas waited.

But when disbelieving fingers reached out, they did not go to the mortal dollars or the golden coins, but rather the third currency that sat beside them. Percy picked up the worn sand dollar, turning it gently over in his hand as a smile found its way onto his face.

"Thanks, Dad," he whispered into the night, slipping the sand dollar into his pocket for safe keeping as he collected the rest of the money. Then, as an afterthought while he returned the dishes to the kitchen he added, "and thanks to you too Apollo."


End file.
